Clint arched his brow and took a sip of his coffee. Jenna’s knees shook, making her leg ache more, and a cold sweat broke out over her body. She waited for him to say something. Anything.
He just sat there drinking his coffee and watching her. Her stomach knotted. She focused on the shadowed hollow of his throat, her heartbeat thundering in her ears as she waited. On the fifth beat, she couldn’t stand it anymore.
“I just meant, if I didn’t mind maybe you shouldn’t.”
A strange sound rumbled in Clint’s chest. Almost like a growl. The ice left his gaze to be replaced by a strange heat. Was he angry? The point of the pencil bit into her palm.
Dear God! she thought, if you could send me some help, I’d really appreciate it.
“But what if I do mind?” Clint asked, replacing the cup on the table.
“I don’t know why you should.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a flash of white as Rebecca covered Clint’s hand with hers and said, “Clint, you’re upsetting Mrs. Hennesey.”
Jenna stared at the contrast, Rebecca’s hand so soft and white and fragile, sitting on top of Clint’s lean, powerful one. Jenna envied Rebecca the innocence that protected her from the knowledge of how fast a man could turn on a woman.
“Am I scaring you, Jenna?” Clint asked in that calm, “reveal nothing” voice.
Jenna swallowed hard, aware that everyone in the small restaurant watched the scene, witnessing her humiliation. The bell over the door jangled as it opened. She didn’t look up, but she knew who, or rather what, had entered by the way the door thumped twice before closing.
God had heard her after all. He’d sent her protector. Jenna opened her hand to the warm nose that slid under her palm and sank her fingers into the black fur of the massive dog’s neck. As he leaned against her a low, rumbling growl emanated from Danny’s throat, clearly directed at Clint.
“What is that?” Rebecca gasped pulling back.
Clint’s answer was full of dry amusement. “My dog.”
“Are you sure it’s not a pony?” Rebecca’s hand slid from Clint’s as she inched away.
“I’m sure. Threw a saddle on him once and he howled for hours. No mistaking what he was, after that.”
The tension in the room eased as a couple of the men snorted with laughter. Jenna patted Danny as he sat, being careful to avoid his burn scars, knowing they were as painfully sensitive as hers. He rested his head on her chest, the slobber from his jowls soaking through the bib of her apron. She didn’t mind. Danny was safety.
Clint’s chair creaked as he leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. “So Jenna… Do you disapprove of my treatment of Miss Salisbury?”
She clutched Danny close and battled her cowardice. She’d started this, and she should end it with a definitive “Yes”, but it wasn’t that easy to get the word out. Clint could destroy her business. He could destroy her. She opened her mouth. Her lips formed the word, but nothing came out.
“What was that?” Clint asked.
She closed her eyes, humiliation washing over her at her own cowardice. Within her arms, Danny straightened and growled a long, low, warning rumble at Clint.
“Aren’t you supposed to be out guarding my horse?” Clint asked the dog, the straight slash of his brow rising on the question.
Danny didn’t move and he didn’t shut up. Jenna leaned down and whispered in his ear. He quieted immediately.
Clint watched as Jenna bent to Danny. Her skin was whiter than white, and her eyes held that haunted look that told him how close she was to breaking. She stood there, her deliciously plump body half hidden by his dog, her pride around her toes, and he knew she reached for the strength that she relied on. Knew she’d find it, too. Goddamn it, he ought to let her humiliate herself like this simply because she would. Instead, he found himself wanting to slip between her silence and her intent, wanting to offer her a way out. The impulse faded as Jenna slowly straightened. Her bright blue eyes met his for the first time in the last five minutes, before dropping away uncomfortably.
“Danny is very sensitive,” she whispered.
Clint gave the huge dog, which looked like a cross between a bear and a bloodhound, a tap on his nose. “He didn’t used to be.”
But he was a damned good judge of character, and he’d taken to Jenna Hennesey right off, lying beside her in that burning building, ready to die with her. Almost did when the roof of that bedraggled shack had come crashing down around them. He still didn’t know how they’d gotten out of there. She’d shown incredible inner strength that night. Holding on despite the tremendous pain. Holding on when he thought she’d pass out, knowing he’d lose her if she did. Digging deep when he asked her to. He hadn’t seen a lick of that incredible inner strength since, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there.
Plain and simple, Jenna Hennesey was too nice for her own good. Almost a doormat. Unless she thought someone was being picked on. Then she dug in her heels and fought. Quietly, subtly, but with an iron will that didn’t flinch. The hell of it was that she pulled him both ways. One way he wanted to wrap her up and cuddle all that softness close. The other he wanted to throw her to the ground and bury himself in all that lush feminine strength.
Neither was an option. Jenna Hennesey had paid enough in her life for one woman. Hooking up with him would only give her more pain. Jenna needed a man filled with ideals and hope for tomorrow. A man who could echo the optimism she wore like a banner. His had long since dried up.
“Now that we’ve cleared up the unpleasantness, could we have our lunch?” Rebecca asked.
Jenna flashed her a grateful look, one that showed her dimples. Clint felt the familiar twitch in his cock that he always experienced in Jenna’s presence. He squashed the arousal and gave Rebecca his best smile. She blinked and caught her breath. He’d seen the reaction a thousand times from a thousand women. In his youth, he’d used it. In later years, he’d taken advantage of it, but now… Hell. He looked into Rebecca’s expectant face. Hell, now he had no use for it.
“Lunch would be fine.”
Clint glanced at Jenna. Her round face was drawn with tension. She was worried. He was willing to bet that the fingers buried in the dog’s ruff were white-knuckled. Damn, why did he always feel compelled to push her? Was he so shallow, so empty, that he couldn’t handle one woman who did not fall at his feet? The knowledge that he probably was didn’t lighten his mood.
“I’ll have the soup.” He glanced at the smug looking dog. “And if you haven’t earmarked every piece of that custard pie for Danny, I’ll have a slice of that to go with it.”
He could tell from the dismay flooding Jenna’s expression that she had done just that.
“There’s only one piece left…” her voice trailed off.
Clint would have pleaded his case, but as if sensing his pie was in danger, Danny tipped his head back and let the loose skin around his face sag, giving him a look so woeful that Clint didn’t bother to compete.
“Hell.”
Jenna kissed Danny’s nose. “I’m sorry.”
She stumbled back as Danny let his full weight lean against her.
“I should be used to it by now,” Clint muttered, catching her wrist and steadying her.
“Used to what?” Rebecca asked, eyeing his fingers on Jenna’s wrist.
“Being outmaneuvered by a mutt.” He released Jenna, noting with interest the faint pink touching her cheeks.
“Danny is not a mutt.” There was that hint of steel threading Jenna’s husky voice that always triggered a purely sexual reaction in him.
“Then what is he?”
She didn’t have an answer, but her soft mouth thinned with determination. Three seconds later she had one. “He’s special.”
He would give her that. He had yet to decide if the dog was a blessing or a curse.
“What else is on the menu?” She shifted her feet and bit her lip, something he’d noticed she did when ill at ease.
/>
“I experimented today with a new recipe.”
“Yeah?” Things were looking up. Jenna’s experiments were always a jaw-dropping experience.
“Yes.”
“What did you make?” Rebecca asked cautiously, sitting up and keeping her eyes on Danny the whole time.
“I tried a torte.”
Clint’s mouth was already watering.
“Chocolate?” he asked, hoping against hope. Used to be that Jenna always baked a chocolate dessert on Saturdays, but then someone had noted that the new desserts always coincided with his visits, and she’d stopped. He figured she didn’t want him thinking she was encouraging his kind.
Her “Yes” was soft, and her gaze didn’t meet his. Her bottom lip slipped between her teeth, forcing her dimples into prominence. His cock went rock-hard in a rush. Damn, the woman was too beautiful for words. Jenna might not be for him, but he’d like to sink for a week into those lush curves of hers. Bury his face in the deep cleavage between her breasts and immerse himself in her scent. He bet she’d be soft and welcoming all over. The kind of softness that took away a man’s loneliness.
“That sounds delicious,” Rebecca sighed.
Jenna’s head came up. Clint noted that she didn’t avoid Rebecca’s gaze the way she did his.
“I hope so. It has a mocha walnut butter cream filling with a dark chocolate glaze. It might be too much for some.”
“There can never be too much chocolate,” Clint countered. At the same time Rebecca moaned and asked, “Any chance you are looking for sacrificial lambs to try out this new recipe?”
Jenna’s hands twisted in Danny’s fur. “I couldn’t charge you for it.”
Clint swore under his breath. “Like hell you couldn’t.”
“But it’s only an experiment.”
She looked genuinely distressed, as if paying for a dessert he might not like would break him. “I’ll tell you what, if I don’t like it, I won’t pay for it.”
“I’d like to try it, too,” Rebecca piped up. “My momma has it in her head that chocolate is bad for the complexion, so I never get it unless I sneak it.”
That cinched it, Clint knew. Jenna would bring Rebecca the torte, because the one thing Jenna loved was chocolate and being without it made her cranky. It was why he’d paid Eloise to stock it in her store and to sell it to Jenna for a quarter of the price. She’d never been anywhere to know that the price she paid was too low. And it made Clint happy to know his money gave someone pleasure.
Jenna let go of Danny, wrapped her hands in her skirt and bit her lip, flashing those dimples again. He bit back a moan. His hunger for Jenna was getting out of control.
“I’ll bring it out, but only if you promise that you won’t feel obligated to say you like it if you don’t.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m going to like it,” Rebecca assured her. “It’s chocolate after all.”
The gentleness in her tone while talking to Jenna raised her up a notch in Clint’s opinion. He made a mental note to find a way to slip Rebecca chocolate now and again.
“I’ll be right back, then.” Jenna turned, flinching as her weight came down on her bad leg. Danny whined and leaned against her. With a nod, she acknowledged the bum hovering by the door and rubbed her thigh.
Clint shook his head when she invited the bum in before heading to the back of the shop, Danny pressed against her side, supporting her weight. Even from this distance he could smell the sour whiskey and old sweat emanating from the drunk’s dirty clothes. Any other shopkeeper wouldn’t have let him in the door, but Clint knew Jenna would seat him and treat him like a king, apologizing profusely to everyone he offended, but she wouldn’t send him away. He’d bet she wouldn’t even charge the no-account, her heart once again getting in the way of business.
Clint made a mental note to double his tip. The woman was too soft for her own good. Too stubborn, too. He could tell from her limp as she pushed through the kitchen door that her leg was killing her. No way was she going to make it through the whole day without a disaster, which meant no way was he going to get any peace for worrying about what form it would take. No sooner had the thought formed in his mind than a crash and a scream came from behind the swinging door.
There was a moment of deafening silence, and then Danny howled.
Chapter Two
Clint was out of his chair, over the counter and through the door before the last note of the eerie howl faded to nothing. The only other time he’d heard Danny howl like that, Jenna had been trapped in that shack, fire roaring all around.
His first impression of the room was chaos. A shelf was down, the contents strewn over the stove and the counter, shards of broken pottery sprinkled about. Then he saw Danny sitting beside the downed shelf, his expression urgent. The shelf heaved. Clint’s heart stopped beating.
He threw the wood structure to the side. Beneath it lay Jenna. She struggled to kneel but then collapsed again. He caught her with an arm under her torso before she could hit the floor.
“Son of a bitch, are you all right?”
She nodded as he turned her over, sliding to his knees as he eased her onto her back.
“Like hell you are,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. Her expression was contorted with pain, her body arched over his knees as she struggled to contain the agony. He couldn’t stand seeing her like this. He caught her shoulders, holding her still.
“Hell, Sunshine, scream if you want to, but tell me where you’re hurt.”
She didn’t scream. Her short nails bit through his denims into his thighs as she gasped, “My leg.”
Danny growled deep in his throat a second before Rebecca asked, “Is she all right?”
Clint wanted to echo the growl as he looked over his shoulder and saw all the faces staring through the door. Jenna would be mortified. A quick glance down told him she already was. Her bright blue eyes were awash in tears.
“She’s fine, but if you could tell everyone that the restaurant’s closed for the rest of the day, I’d appreciate it.” He ignored Jenna’s violent shaking of her head. “Mrs. Hennesey needs a rest.”
Damn, calling her by that name stuck in his craw. She should never have been married to that brutal bastard. Jenna struggled to get up. He overrode her with a simple placement of his hand on her stomach.
Behind him he heard Rebecca explaining to everyone, adding a reminder not to forget to pay their bills. She was an efficient, capable woman. She’d make someone else a fine wife.
Beneath his hand Jenna’s seductively soft stomach heaved as she took a deep breath and gasped, “Jonas.”
“What about him?”
“Supper.”
“He’ll no doubt drink it as usual.”
A little shriek escaped the seal of her lips as she lurched against him. He caught her and held her against his chest, tucking her face into his throat, every pant of her breath ripping him up inside.
“I’m going to look at your leg.”
She clamped her hand down on her skirt and shook her head.
“Jonas,” she gasped again. He tugged at her wrist. She clamped down harder. She was going to fight him until this was settled, he could tell.
“Son of a bitch, you have got to be the most stubborn woman.” He turned and hollered out the door. “Rebecca!”
She came through the door a second later, her hands filled with dirty plates. “Yes?”
“Is that drunk still here?”
She glanced over her shoulder. “He’s just leaving, and I’m sure he has a name.”
Just what he needed, two soft-hearted, soft-headed women.
“Jonas,” Jenna gasped again the last syllable rising on high whimper.
“Ladle up a bowl of soup and a dessert for him, and send him on his way.”
Rebecca didn’t immediately move. Clint glanced over his shoulder. She was staring at Jenna, not so much with pity but with inquiry.
He swore under his breath, realizing nothing important
was going to get done until the women had their way.
“What kind of dessert does Jonas like?” he asked Jenna.
He had to wait through four pants before she found enough breath to answer, “Chocolate.”
Ah hell, first his pie to a dog and now his cake to a drunk. “Give him a piece of the chocolate torte and tell him if the plates don’t come back in one piece I’m taking it out of his hide.”
Jenna was shaking her head again as another spasm took her.
“What the hell is it now?”
“Eat here.”
“No.” There was no way he’d get her to rest if she had someone in the shop.
“Take it,” she moaned.
“That’s what I want him to do. Take his meal elsewhere.”
“I think she means someone will take it from him,” Rebecca offered, putting the plates on the floor by the door.
“Son of a fucking bitch!”
Rebecca gasped and Jenna groaned. With an unnecessary “Guard her” to Danny, Clint stormed into the other room. He took his Stetson, with its distinctive band, from his head and held it out to the downtrodden man. “Anyone messes with you—you point to my hat and tell them they’re messing with me.”
Instead of being grateful, the man looked in the direction from which Clint had just come. “Is Miss Jenna okay?”
“That’s Mrs. Hennesey to you.”
“Don’t like that name.”
Clint didn’t know if Jonas meant Jenna didn’t like the name or he didn’t like the name, but since he didn’t like it either, he didn’t have much room to argue. He stood there holding the hat and waited. Jonas stood there with a set to his shoulders that said he wasn’t taking anything until his question was answered. Was everyone trying to get on his bad side?
“She’ll be fine. I just have to take care of her, and she won’t let me do that until she’s sure you’re okay.”
“She’s a good woman.” His eyes when they met Clint’s were suddenly clear. “You need to take better care of her.”
Promises Prevail Page 2
